


Onanism for the Uninitiated

by starrysummernights



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Healthy Relationships, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrysummernights/pseuds/starrysummernights
Summary: Graves coaching Credence to enjoy touching himself.





	

“Touch yourself.”

Credence shuddered at the low, dark command. Something twisted in his stomach and he nervously wet his lips, tongue darting out and tasting the pungent remnants of the red wine from dinner, his own portion drank directly from Mr. Graves’s mouth. He shuddered again at the memory, nipples tightening into twin buds on his chest as he remembered the press of Mr. Graves’s lips against his, the intoxicating flow of warm red wine over his tongue, blooming and fragrant and intoxicating, and the way he'd gone light headed from more than just the alcohol.

“Credence.”

Credence jerked his head up, obedient, to look at Mr. Graves who surveyed him intently from his arm chair, head propped casually on one hand. Mr. Graves was still in the suit he’d worn to work, although his jacket was gone and his tie was loosened, but he was still impeccably dressed while Credence was…was…

Credence knelt on the floor between Mr. Graves’s spread legs, naked, his body on full display for Mr. Grave’s roving eyes. The stare was an almost physical weight and Credence wanted to quail from that look. He wanted to cover himself, cross his arms in front of his chest and hide, cup his hands around his genitals and conceal himself. It wasn’t that he was scared. Not at all. He knew that Mr. Graves wouldn’t hurt him. It was just…

Credence squirmed and dropped his eyes, face heating up when his gaze unsurprisingly fell on his cock. It jutted from between his thighs, stiff and straining, a dusky pink at the head where fluid already beaded at the tip. Hot shame at his obvious eagerness made Credence shift his knees, shuffling closer and then back, craving to be closer to Mr. Graves and then further away from the man to whom he owned so much. He hunched forward in a pathetic attempt to hide how aroused he was. It was useless. He knew Mr. Graves had already seen, but Credence couldn’t help it. The natural reaction when he was this way was guilt, shame, and an overwhelming need to suppress himself and the demands of his sinful body so no one would see. No one would know. No one would be able to judge him.

“Credence.”

It was easier to ignore these…feelings when Mr. Graves touched him. His possessive hands all over Credence’s body forced him to enthusiastically respond- and respond he did. There was no room for inhibitions when Mr. Graves was touching him, urging Credence with every moan and sigh, drinking them in like the best, most flavorful wine, and making Credence come so hard he felt loopy for days. Credence didn’t have to think during those times. Didn’t have to acknowledge what he was doing or feeling. He only had to do it. Please Mr. Graves and, by doing so, please himself.

Not like now, when Mr. Graves made him own arousal and need. Proudly display it in the vast openness of their sitting room that felt like miles of open space to Credence who cowered, a fly in the middle of a spider’s web.

“Credence.”

He could feel the warmth of Mr. Graves’s body radiating against his naked skin, from feet away, and he wanted to lean into the warmth and rest his head against Mr. Graves’s knee. Then, Mr. Graves would gently card his fingers through Credence’s hair as he read the newspaper, or listened to the wizarding radio. Credence would pretend he was an overlarge, beloved pet that was so loved and cherished and forget about confronting his demons and-

“ _Credence_.” Rough fingers gripped his chin and turned Credence’s face up so he was forced once again to meet Mr. Graves’s eyes. The look in those shadowy eyes- possession, dark lustfulness- sent another shiver down Credence’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Mr. Graves frowned, not lessening his grip on Credence’s chin.

“Are you cold?”

“N-no, sir.” Credence shook his head. Mr. Graves smiled.

“Good.” He sighed, eyes trailing indolently down Credence’s exposed body. Credence’s penis twitched disgracefully from the attention. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. No. Don’t. You shouldn’t. “Look at you. Look how much you want this.”

Credence didn’t need to see. He could feel his penis and the way it throbbed, but Mr. Graves turned Credence’s head down and Credence meekly stared at his own penis as it bobbed slightly. The sight of it, standing erect and proud, demanding to be pleasured was…conflicting.

Onanism was wrong. Onan had spilled his seed in the dirt and been punished. All his life, Credence had been told not to touch himself inappropriately. He’d been warned about the dangers of self-abuse. You’d grow hair on the palms of your hands. Spots would sprout on your face. Then, everyone would know you were a pervert. If you did it once, your penis might never work again. You’d lose your eyesight. Some people went insane. Others died.

“Touch yourself for me, Credence.” Mr. Graves instructed, voice a low vibration at the base of Credence’s spine. “I want to see you pleasure yourself.”

Mr. Graves didn’t think it was wrong. He thought it was normal, healthy even, and he encouraged Credence to touch himself, constantly urging him to do it. When he was buried deep inside Credence, his cock thick and wonderful and stretching Credence, he’d beg him to touch himself, bring himself off. Credence did as he was told. Credence always wanted to please Mr. Graves.

“You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” Mr. Graves asked, gently. “You’ll touch yourself. I want to see you come.”

“Yes, sir.” Credence said shakily. His hand quivered as he wrapped it around himself and he whimpered at the first hot, sweaty touch to his sensitive flesh. His hand felt good against his length. His cock surged beneath his palm. Credence took a deep breath, and then began a quick, perfunctory rhythm designed to get himself off as quickly as possible. He’d done it this way back at Second Salem, muffling his panting breaths in his pillow and touching himself quickly so no one would see, no one would catch him. The pleasure rose, sharp, in the pit of his stomach. Credence grasped at it, huffing through his nose as he forced himself closer to-

“Stop.” Mr. Graves grabbed Credence’s arm and halted his hurried strokes. “You know that’s not the right way.”

Credence did know. How many times had they done this and yet how many times would Credence insist on always beginning that way?

“Slowly.” Mr. Graves gentled Credence’s grasp of himself, loosening his fingers and wrapping them again in a much looser fist. “Gently. Make yourself feel good. There’s no rush. It’s just you…and me. Take your time.”

“Yes, sir.” Credence kept his eyes closed, absorbing Mr. Grave’s words like a prayer.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of in this, Credence. Nothing.”

Credence let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Start again. When you’re ready.”

Credence shifted his stance on his knees, the carpet tickling at his shins. He sobbed out a breath and then started again, slowly. Gently. Making himself feel good. There was no rush. It was just himself and Mr. Graves. He could take his time.

This time, the pleasure unwound in his pelvis like a ball of yarn, unspooling itself out and suffusing his entire body with a prickling pleasure. He allowed himself to vary his strokes, starting with short, small movements and then working himself up, allowing his hand to traverse further up and tease at the head of his prick. He was more sensitive here, and touching himself there for more than a second elicited a gasp, unbidden, and another few pulses of fluid.

“Look at yourself, Credence. Look at your hand…on your cock.”

That voice was sin and seduction. Credence didn’t think the devil himself could be more alluring. He’d do anything that voice asked him to do. He opened his eyes, unsticking his eyelashes and blinking down at himself.

“Ah _!”_ The sight of it, his penis so red and hard and dripping, doubled the feeling of arousal. Credence’s hips jerked forward on their own accord, fucking obscenely into his fist. “M-Mr. Graves!”

“Yes, Credence. Yes!” Mr. Graves groaned and Credence glanced up at him- and froze.

Mr. Graves had his trousers open and pushed down to his thighs- when had he done that? Credence hadn’t heard?- and was fondling himself. Touching his cock which was hard in his grip. He was at perfect eye level with Mr. Graves’s crotch and Credence swayed forward, eyes unable to look away.

“Look what you do to me, Credence. This…just from watching you. You’re so gorgeous.”

He had that effect on Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves was that way, just for him. He thought Credence was gorgeous. He thought Credence, naked and on his knees, touching himself like a pervert, was gorgeous. Credence gasped for air. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breath came in labored little pants. The prickle of sweat beneath his testicles slid down his thighs and his legs were slick where they were pressed together, his prick hard and straining and Mr. Graves was touching himself, mouth open, watching Credence as he furiously stroked himself, offering no reproof as Credence worked himself harder and harder, spiraling closer to that unreachable goal-

“ _Oh_!” Credence jerked his hand away from his penis as he started to come, the sensations too much to continue even as semen shot from the tip, streaking over the carpet in long, white stripes. He clutched at his thighs, scoring them with his fingernails as his orgasm continued, his testicles contracting, leaving him shuddering and wrecked, the perfect offering for his god.

“Credence-“ Mr. Graves bit off a moan it took Credence only a look. He surged forward at the unspoken request, kneeling stickily in his own spendings but not caring as he lowered his head, swallowing down Mr. Graves penis, taking it into his mouth as he’d often seen Catholics take their communion. It took only a few bobs of his head before Mr. Graves stiffened, flooding Credence’s mouth with his come. Credence swallowed, eyes watering, pressing himself as close as he could to Mr. Graves. He sucked around his softening cock, cleaning it, and when Mr. Graves jolted from sensitivity and patted his head, Credence reluctantly moved away. He didn’t move far, only siting back on his haunches, resting his head against Mr. Graves knee and he waited, wondering if he would be disappointed or-

Credence sighed, every bone in his body relaxing when Mr. Graves ran his fingers through Credence’s hair, caressing him tenderly, letting him know in the best, most unspoken way that he was loved and cherished and this, at this very moment, made everything he’d gone through worthwhile. It made Credence realize how lucky he was, how amazingly lucky, to have been afforded this opportunity. And, as he relaxed against Mr. Graves, he promised himself that he wouldn’t waste it.


End file.
